


Four Last Songs: Imagine

by Celebratory Penguin (cpenguing)



Series: Four Last Songs [4]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: Extreme levels of angst, Gen, M/M, McLennon, Read the end notes if you need more information., SEE END NOTES IF YOU NEED TRIGGER WARNINGS., Seriously if you hate angst this is not the story for you., end of life issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cpenguing/pseuds/Celebratory%20Penguin
Summary: Final installment of "Four Last Songs" - John's deathbed recollections.This story is an AU. At this point in the story, it is so far off the original timeline that only one or two details would be considered "accurate," but that's to be expected.This is not, by any means, what I "wished had happened." It's an exploration of how the Beatles' mythology would have been different had John not been the first to die.





	Four Last Songs: Imagine

> The Guardian
> 
> December 8, 2030
> 
> Fans of musician John Lennon have begun a silent candlelight vigil outside St. Luke's Hospice in London. Lennon's condition is said to be deteriorating rapidly and he is not expected to live through the night.
> 
> Lennon, who turned ninety in October of this year, shot to fame as the erstwhile leader of rock-and-roll's most popular and enduring group, The Beatles. Known for his quick, sardonic wit and fanciful turns of lyrical phrase, Lennon and his bandmates Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr turned the world upside down, capturing the hearts and minds of several generations.
> 
> Poor business decisions and internal squabbles led to the band's members growing apart in 1969, and in 1970 the suicide of bassist Paul McCartney at the age of twenty-seven ended The Beatles forever. His death by self-inflicted gunshot wound on the front steps of Lennon's Surrey estate was both shocking and traumatizing for his friends and fans alike.
> 
> In subsequent years Lennon released a number of albums, some experimental (with ex-wife Yoko Ono). His other recordings were rock-and-roll songs that often seemed to fall short of the mark he'd achieved when in partnership with McCartney.
> 
> Lennon frequently blamed himself for McCartney's death; the feud between them had been especially bitter, given their long-standing friendship that went back to their teen years in Liverpool. When McCartney's widow, Linda, started the McCartney Foundation to support those with mental health and substance abuse difficulties, Lennon was the first of hundreds of celebrities to offer his support. The surviving Beatles' "Concert for Paul" in honor of the musician's fiftieth birthday remains the highest-grossing charity concert on record.
> 
> After the deaths of George Harrison in 2001 of cancer, and Ringo Starr from a heart attack ten years ago, Lennon became the last remaining Beatle.
> 
> Lennon's son, musician/author Julian Lennon, has requested prayers and privacy at this difficult time. He informed the press that his father's wish is to be cremated and his ashes scattered at McCartney's private grave.

***  
  
_They are running on the beach in Nassau, laughing as their bare feet pad along the soft, white sand. The water is the kind of blue John has only ever seen on maps depicting an ocean, never in the water itself. Ringo is picking up seashells for his little boy while George discovers the joy of crisping himself in the sun's rays, so John and Paul head out into the water alone._

_They swim a little, but mostly they splash one another until they are soaked through. They bob up and down in the waves like dolphins. Paul's wet hair shines like a blackbird’s feathers and his cheeks are turning pink with sun and exertion._

_John feels an unaccountable swell of pride at how beautiful Paul is, sleek as an otter as he slips under the water and takes strong strokes out toward the endless horizon. Standing chest-deep in the briny water, John watches Paul re-emerge, pushing his hair out of his face and taking in a huge lungful of air._

_"Come out further," Paul shouts, but John shakes his head. Paul swims up to him, then disappears beneath the surface. As John turns to look for him he becomes aware of a strong hand around his wrist. He has just enough time to inhale before Paul pulls him under the water._

_The salt stings John's eyes but he makes himself look at Paul anyway until they both have to come up for air. This time Paul puts his hands on John's shoulders and he whispers, "Deep breath, Johnny" just before he ducks them both underwater again._

_Paul's hands come up behind John's head until their cheeks brush against each other. Then comes a kiss, and another, and a third, and John thinks his heart will burst out of his chest._

_When they surface again, Paul keeps hold of John's hands beneath the water. "We can be alone down there," he murmurs. His breath smells of touches of that morning's bacon sarnie, a cigarette, and the musky ocean water on his lips._

_John isn't in love. He is besotted, captivated, entranced. This time, he pulls Paul into the ocean for a kiss that lasts so long that they don't feel the incoming wave that threatens to take them out to sea._

_Lungs screaming for air, John pushes his way up, yanking on Paul's arm until they both break the surface, panting hard the way they do when they make love. John wants to go live under the sea where he and Paul can be safe and alone._

_"One more," Paul pleads with wide, frantic eyes. John cannot possibly refuse him. Acting in tandem, as with all things, they inhale deeply and dive beneath the water, and as John kisses Paul he can't tell if the salt on his face is from the ocean or his own tears._

***

"Why are you crying? Are you in pain?"

It wasn't Paul's voice, but another familiar one that cut through the crashing waves and brought John back to shore.

"Dad? Do you need me to call the nurse?"

John opened his eyes and looked at his son. He smiled despite the sharp sting of sadness and shook his head. "Just remembering."

Julian put his palm on John's face. His hand was warm. "What're you thinking about?"

"Filming 'Help!' in Nassau. Me and Paul on the beach." John's chest felt heavy, as if the entire ocean pressed down on his ribs. He breathed shallowly. It hurt. Oh, how it hurt.

 **_We are all water  
_** **_In this vast, vast ocean.  
_ ** ******_Someday we'll evaporate together._**

Their original circle was nearly evaporated now. Maureen, then George, then Linda, then Cynthia, all gone from cancer. Ringo's sudden heart attack came later, leaving John and Pattie alone with their memories of The Greatest Show On Earth.

"You'll go see Pattie? Make sure she understands?" John whispered.

He and Pattie had remained close friends, visiting one another frequently. Then came a time when Pattie started asking why George never came to see her. John still called on her every week, even when she no longer remembered him. Even when she no longer remembered herself.

Julian nodded. "I will, I promise."

 **_Would you promise to be true  
_ ** **_And help me understand?_ **

John had stopped by the nursing home one last time a few days ago. For the first time in years, Pattie's cloudy eyes had finally focused on his face and recognition lit her countenance at last. When John leaned over to kiss her cheek, she murmured the first intelligible sentence she'd uttered in years: "Tell George I still love him."

***

_John goes to see George at Olivia's request, knowing he has only days left on this earth. They sit together, close enough to keep touching one another as they chat about the early years when they were so certain that the whole world would come to adore them. George, wan and thin, turns the full wattage of his smile on John and says, "So. Tell me about you and Paul."_

_Stunned, as George has never broached the subject since John confessed to him in Los Angeles, John struggles to find words._

**_Love is touch,  
_ ** **_Touch is love._ **

_"We used to hold hands under the table at press conferences," John starts, and George snorts out a laugh._

_"We knew THAT, son. You got hold of Ringo's thigh once by accident and he slept with one eye open and his back to the wall for a week."_

**_Love is reaching,  
_ ** **_Reaching, love._ **

_"Paul made me work like I've never worked before or since. And anything I did, Paul had to try and one-up me."_

_"Even in the bedroom?" George inquires, eyebrows raised. He starts to cough, so John hands him a glass of water, helping him to steady it as he takes a few cautious sips. He knows that George considers the pain to be a chance for the spiritual growth he's been yearning for. John loves him for this, loves him more than ever._

_He flips George's pillow over to the cool side, as George had done for him when he was coming off of heroin at Friar Park, and gently settles him back down._

**_Love is asking  
_ ** **_To be loved._ **

_John is shocked that he can still blush, but he notices warmth creeping up his neck and face. "Never there. Anything I asked for, he gave me, and the other way 'round. We were generous to each other." He bites his lip for a moment, then says, "I wish we'd never stopped."_

_George's hand squeezes his, lightly, with what little strength remains. "I've always wondered - what was it like, making love with him?"_

_There had been an effort in that question, so John musters up the courage to look back at him. But how to explain the tempest that was Paul McCartney in the throes of passion, writhing under John's hands or covering John with kisses as they exploded together into a million stars? John searches for a word, stroking the shorn remnants of George's short, grey hair as he ponders._

_"We were...extraordinary," John whispers at last. George looks back at him, his eyes patient and understanding._

_"You will be again. Both of you." He stretches weakly then lies down flat on the bed, pale with pain yet glowing with an inner light. "I'll see you there, then. Goodbye, Johnny."_

_John leans over, keenly aware that this will be their final embrace. His eyes are hot with tears as he whispers, "Goodbye, George."_

***

Three days later, George was gone. John missed him more than he thought was possible. He and Ringo became even closer over the years; Ringo never stopped mourning George, and John was the only person he felt comfortable talking to about it. For his part, John clung to Ringo because it seemed once again that everyone he loved had died on him.

Then one night Ringo had gone to bed and not awakened.

 **_Now it's time to say good night.  
_ ** **_Good night, sleep tight._ **

John was alone: The Last Beatle, the newspapers had captioned the photo of him placing a pair of drumsticks in Ringo's coffin.

 **_Dream sweet dreams for me,  
_ ** **_Dream sweet dreams for you._ **

In the last decades of his life John seldom touched a guitar, except at charity events or privately at the homes of friends. He busied himself with his cats and his herb garden, and he took particular delight in helping Julian write both books and music. John never married again, never even took a lover. He couldn’t; he couldn’t trust himself not to fall down the rabbit hole of insane, jealous, dependent madness again.

His passions were directed toward his enormous library instead, stacked floor to ceiling with books and records. No compact discs or electronic files were allowed; John loved the warmth of vinyl on a turntable and played LPs and singles until he wore them down to silence.

He had been through at least a dozen copies of "McCartney" and knew that album better than anything he had ever written himself. Some days the sound of Paul's voice was a balm on his tired mind and aching body. Other days it was like poking his tongue in the space where a tooth had fallen out - painful but somehow impossible to stop.

His memories were like that, too. Julian had loaded the hospice room's video screen with John's favourite photos, blown up large enough for John's weak eyes to take in. John was too debilitated to work the remote control - and he had always been terrible with gadgetry - so Julian made a slideshow of them. Julian and Cynthia were there, and of course the Beatles themselves in all their phases. The "Beatle Children" were all represented, especially Linda's photo of John holding little Mary in his arms and the picture of him with Julian after singing "Let it Be."

There was one printed photograph, kept at John's side in pride of place: the David Bailey portrait where John was leaning his cheek against Paul's hair.

***

_The walls of the photography studio are surprisingly bare, stark white. It's very bright. Paul's eyes, a bit dry from smoking too much pot, start to water a little. He sniffles as he pats his pockets for the handkerchief he never, ever can find._

_John holds up a wad of tissues and presses it to Paul's nose. "Blow," he instructs. Over his shoulder he says to David Bailey, "Don't even think about taking a photo."_

_David doesn't laugh. He's in a mood. Pattie had warned them that he ran hot and cold, and today there's definitely an arctic chill in the air. Impatiently, David tells them to hurry up, then motions for his assistant to dab a little foundation beneath Paul's nostrils._

_"Someone has his knickers in a twist," Paul whispers into the shell of John's ear. The little puff of breath is almost enough to get John hard, but he forces himself to remember that this is For Posterity and it's no time to think with what's below his belt. He fixes Paul with a stare that clearly says "Not now, you idiot," and Paul, chomping on gum, rolls his eyes at him. John turns away to keep from laughing._

_David takes a shot. "I like the tension!" he declares._

_If only he knew._

_John walks behind Paul and puts his hands on his shoulders, guiding him downward until they're sitting on the floor. Paul is almost in his lap. John drapes his arms around Paul, letting his hands dangle languidly. Even though he can't see Paul, he knows, he KNOWS that Paul is shaping himself into angles that will complement him._

_David is shooting like crazy, telling them to look ahead as if they’re envisioning their future._

_John leans forward and presses his right cheek against the side of Paul's head. Paul has taken to using hair spray, the daft sod, and the crispness is a little irritating. John stays there despite the tickle of AquaNet against his freshly-shaven face, and as David clicks away, he lets his eyes go unfocused._

_Why look into the future when Right Now is so beautiful?_

***

Everything John remembered was sweet, yet it was painful knowing those memories would die with him. What would his friends have thought about his feelings as the world closed in on him? George would have given a treatise on the duality of nature. Ringo would have made him laugh at himself. Paul would have...would have sat quietly and stroked his hair as the evening sun cast an amber glow in the hospice room.

The feeling of gentle fingers in his hair woke him from his reverie. He blinked his eyes open slowly, struggling to focus.  Even without his glasses the tall, slim figure in front of him was a familiar one, and he smiled. "Mary, love, hello."

"Hi, John." She had dropped the "Uncle" honorific decades before at his request and was now a friend and beloved companion. Julian was godfather to her eldest son, James, who grew up idolizing his "Grandpa John." For his part, John treated James with kindly, tender gravity, as if trying to atone for past mistakes with his namesake. Now James was a man, as handsome and gifted as the grandfather he had never known, but without the sorrow.

Thank God.

Mary's face shone with tears as she sat on the edge of the bed and put her long-fingered hand over John's. "I brought you roses - see?"

Sure enough, the little night table was almost overflowing with crimson blossoms. John tried to reach out to them but his weak arms refused to cooperate. Julian took a flower, stripped the thorns from the stem, and placed it on the pillow where John could inhale the extravagant perfume. The scent overcame the sterile smell of the bed linen, and John relaxed. Paul's roses always had that effect on him. Soon, he told himself. Soon he'd be there among the roses George and Dhani had tended so lovingly, nurturing the flowers.

"Did Julian explain...?" John began, but his voice gave out the way it did on that first recording session.

**_Well shake it, shake it, shake it baby now..._ **

Mary held both of his hands now, pressing them to her lips. "We have it worked out, I promise. Dhani's leaving Friar Park to the National Trust, and in his will the gravesite is mapped out. It'll be protected forever. There'll be headstones for you and Mum as well as Dad." She had to stop and wipe her eyes.

John recalled the day that he, Mary, and Heather had put Linda's urn next to the little blackbird beneath the roses. As if reading John's mind, Mary continued. "We're having a blackbird carved on Dad's headstone, a horse on Mum's, and a walrus on yours. Would you like that?"

John tried to smile but it came out as a twisted, pained grimace. Julian pressed a button on the metallic box next to John's bed and moments later John felt the sting of morphine followed by blessed relief.

 **It won't be long, yeah, yeah, yeah,  
** **It won't be long.  
** **It won't be long, yeah, yeah, yeah,  
** **'Til I belong to you.**

***

_John places the little tablet of LSD on the tip of Paul's tongue, then seals his mouth with a kiss._

_"I'm scared, Johnny," Paul admits, shuddering against John's body._

_John's still tripping but the world is more controllable now. He knows Mal will take care of them if something goes pear-shaped, but he's pretty sure he can look after Paul himself._

_"There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm right here. I have you."_

_Paul nods, his lips tight and his eyes bright with anticipation and fear. He stares into John's eyes and John stares right back._

_They're the most stunning eyes in the world. Kaleidoscope eyes._

_God, but Paul is beautiful. Paul is his friend, his lover, the best and worst parts of him all rolled up in one amazing, infuriating man._

_"Don't leave me, John," Paul whispers against John's lips. "Please. Don't leave me."_

_"I won't, baby. I promise."_

_He's almost certain he's telling the truth. It never occurs to him that Paul might be the one to leave._

**_Don't let me down,  
_ ** **_Don't let me down._ **

***

Paul had indeed left him all those years ago, but now John sensed that he was in the room with him, as real as the photograph Julian had placed by his pillow, as real as the laughing, smiling man on the video screen. Yes, he was here. Paul, young and vibrant and perfect, stepped out of the screen and held out his hand to John. Desperate for his touch, John strained forward as much as his frail body would allow, then fell back again, spent. He could hear Mary's voice cracking as she told Julian, "I think he's going."

Julian took a deep breath, almost a sob, and grasped John's right hand while Mary held his left. "Dad? Are you scared?"

John shook his head.

 **_Imagine there's no heaven,  
_ ** **_It's easy if you try._ **

"Imagine we're on the beach in Nassau again," said Paul from just inside John's diminishing field of vision. "The tide's lapping at our toes, then our legs, moving upward and upward until we're just floating side by side in the warm waters. It's so comfortable, Johnny. I've missed you."

John let go of Julian's and Mary's hands with a sigh. "Don't worry," he whispered. He gathered all his strength to take one last breath. "I'm only sleeping."

Then Paul turned to him and kissed him lightly on the forehead as they drifted out to sea.

***

END

**Author's Note:**

> With unending gratitude to Bakerstreetafternoon and Savageandwise for help above and beyond the call of friendship.
> 
>  
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS BELOW
> 
> S
> 
> P
> 
> O
> 
> I
> 
> L
> 
> E
> 
> R
> 
> S
> 
>  
> 
> This still deals with the aftermath of the suicide in part one although it does not directly describe it.
> 
> A character has dementia.
> 
> Many characters die "offscreen" and their causes of death are cancer and a heart attack.
> 
> The main character dies peacefully at the end of the chapter.


End file.
